


Closer to fine.

by bloodredcherry



Category: Pitch Black (2000)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherry/pseuds/bloodredcherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life was her vigil. Giving into the darkness would be too easy, and she at least owed them that much. It was all she could give... and it would have to be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer to fine.

**Author's Note:**

> No infringement intended, I’m just borrowing them for a while.  
> This is an old story, but something that I'm really proud of, so please let me know what you think, but please be constructive!

The candlelight caused shadows to dance across the wall, steaming water rippled and sweat trickled down the hollow of her throat.

Wax melted across porcelain, bleeding together, and the heady smell of burning, vanilla and sulfur was in the air.

It was strange, that despite everything, the darkness comforted her. It was like everything she lost in the darkness was everything she gained. The light was too harsh it showed too much. The night and shadows left room for secrets.

The darkness allowed her to ask questions she'd never dare to ask if she could see her reflection in a mirror.

She held her finger over the flame of a thick white candle, letting it burn. She winced but didn't pull her hand away, not until it blistered. She stared at the bubble of liquid under her skin, and then she tugged with her right index finger and broke the skin.

-

She leaned back and submerged under the water, water lapped over the edge, extinguishing a few of the squatter candles. She opened her eyes against the burn and stared.

She watched the remaining candlelight undulate above the surface and she wondered how long it would take her to drown if she opened her mouth and drank the water in.

_Not for me_.

She sat up suddenly, wiping the stinging liquid from her eyes, the rest of the candles went out and all edges disappeared.

_Not for me_.

It wasn't as if she meant to. Her mind was telling her to get onto that ship, while her body was running back into the dark.

Running back for him. __

_Him_.

A feeling settled into her stomach, an aching pain that she wasn't able to define. - A cool settled over her shoulders, and she tensed, until she remembered she'd left the window open.

She reveled in the small relief of cool air that passed over her face; it was almost as if it were a caress...

Her sides ached with phantom pain; the scars had almost faded.

It was amazing what medical technology and money could do. They could give a whole new life if you wanted.

She had wanted, she'd wanted it so badly that she'd been sick with the need. She fell to her knee's, curled in on herself and sobbed in a puddle of her own filth.

But she knew.

She knew that even if she had paid for the surgery and flown as far away as she could from everything she'd ever known... she'd still remember.

The memories would haunt.

That's why she was still alive. Her life was her vigil. Giving into the darkness would be too easy, and she at least owed them that much. It was all she could give... and it would have to be enough.

She dreamt of them sometimes, not on that planet. Not in their last moments.

She dreamt of them without fear, pain or blood. In a grocery store, the lights so glaring, she had to shade her eyes, turn her face away. Or in a park, with grass spread like an emerald carpet. For a while the vivid technicolor was the only way Carolyn could differentiate _real_ from _dreams_.

Those dreams were the worst because when they laughed, cried, screamed, sang or prayed she knew they'd never do any of that again.

She stood up suddenly, water rolled off her in rivulets.

She reached down and pried a candle off the edge of the bathtub. She grabbed the box of matches from the soap holder, and slipped on the water slick floor. She cursed as her hip crashed against the counter. She fumbled with the matches and finally pulled one free.

She lit the candle on the second try with shaking fingers; she blew out the match just as the fire licked her fingertips. She looked into the mirror and gasped.

"Not for me..."

She turned on her heel, and almost slipped again. The candle flickered but did not go out. Her foot brushed against the edge of the bath mat and she jumped. She pressed a hand against her heart and stepped onto the terry cloth.

She rubbed the soles of her feet against the softness. She closed her eyes took a deep breath, then opened them. Scanned the bathroom.

She was alone.

She let out a breath painfully. She'd been so sure...

It was only recently that she'd begun to see them, flashes, always just out of her line of vision...but... _silver_. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and only saw her own frightened face staring back at her. She cocked her head, _frightened_... and _hopeful_?

Then she looked down at her fingers, two silver bands, wrapped around her right ring and middle finger. She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to center herself.

Then she reached down and picked up a folded towel from the floor. She rubbed it through her hair, then wrapped it tightly around her body. She dipped her foot into the tub to unplug the drain, then she wandered over to the window.

Street lamps were lit down her street, and she stared out into the night, then out into the stars. Night was when the memories came, or rather, the fragments of memories. She didn't remember much after being ripped away into the night, except for Riddick's face, as their hands slipped as she grasped at air. His face as he disappeared into the shadow.

She remembered the jarring agony as the creatures claws slipped in her skin, tearing deeper, then she was falling.

She lay still, the impact had chased all air from her lungs and she was sure she was dead. Then came the rushing burn, so intense for the first few seconds that Carolyn only saw white.

Eventually it dulled to a throbbing ache and she remembered thinking, being dead should hurt more.

She blinked, and sucked in a deep breath of air, she cowered, but then... then she heard the shrill screams and whoops overhead, and suddenly something wet and warm slopped across her face.

She heard the sick squeltch and shrieking, then she knew. She had to get away _now_ , while the rest of the creatures were distracted. She started to crawl, she dug her fingers into the mug and dragged her self along, she had no idea where she was, how far the creature had flown before it had crashed.

How the hell had that happened anyway?

Carolyn wasn't the religious type, but chalking her escape up to 'luck' seemed ludicrous.

Even now, she didn't dwell on the _why_ for long, she didn't want to know why she was alive when the others were dead.

She didn't want to be let in on the joke.

What about staying in the light, _what about the light_?

Carolyn had never thought of herself as particularly lucky- but then, she'd never considered herself particularly unlucky. If this is luck... she'd thought darkly, then luck can go - suddenly she barked the side her head on something- a building? She would never be sure, but _damn it,_ it hurt.

_That_ hurt was the hurt she remembered most clearly.

Carolyn didn't want this luck, she wanted to give it back to Owens, to Shazza, to Hassan.

In the muck, and the darkness and the _fear_ a scream tore from her throat, she felt blood vessel's rupture; a coppery taste at the back of her throat, she tripped, tore open her shin.

Then finally she turned the corner.

And she was alone.

The realization had hit her like a sucker punch to the gut, it was the thing that finally forced her to her knees.

Her discarded bottle of Jack Daniels crammed full of the glowing worms lay on the ground. She snagged the bottle with bloody fingers, and a strange calm settled over her.

A final sort of calm.

_So this is it_.

She'd cradled the glowing bottle against her body, and closed her eyes. She didn't know why she thought they'd come back for her, but somewhere she had hoped. Hoped they'd waited, hoped somehow they'd know that she wasn't dead, that she was coming back...

Carolyn had completely forgotten about the S.O.S until something touched her, she screamed and thrashed until the thing gathered her into warm hands. Warm, strong _hands_ , and that stilled her shoulders, instead of digging in and digging _deep_.

A Face out of focus was asking her questions.

"Jack?" She murmured, the young girls face was triggered in her minds eye, "are you sure you're bleeding honey?"

The Face kept talking to her. Warmth, a foil blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. "Imam- Where you'd get the blanket?" She heard gunfire, and the sound of a shrill cry.

"Riddick-" She blurted, "stay in the light," she looked over to the Face, "are you afraid of the dark?" She murmured before she passed out.

When she finally came to again, the Face was talking to her again. Except this time, it was more than a Face, it was a _he_ and she could see a strong jaw and thin lips and a hooked nose, she saw eyes a forehead and red hair.

Carolyn closed her eyes, sure that this was some form of hell.

She'd asked where the others were, if Jack was all right. They looked at her with concern, with pity and whispered to each other in low tones. Doctor speak that Carolyn couldn't understand. The Face explained that they'd received a distress call, the Face kept asking all these questions.

The Face must not have been satisfied with her answers because he just kept asking _more_ questions.

Then they gave her something that would help her sleep. "You're just a face." Carolyn murmured as she slipped into drug induced oblivion.

"Just a face..." Carolyn murmured, she pulled apart her towel and stared at herself in the mirror.

She was a slip of the old Carolyn Fry, a shell.

She closed her eyes against a silver flash.

She was alone.


End file.
